


Writer's Hands

by EminEmily



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EminEmily/pseuds/EminEmily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has writer's hands</p>
            </blockquote>





	Writer's Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated and welcomed!

Castiel has writer's hands. It's not something Dean notices at first, because he never really looked at Cas' hands before; he never had a reason.

However, the more attracted he let himself be to Cas, the more he noticed the little things, the more he saw, the more he learned.

Cas' hands were lightly tanned like the rest of him, long, slender fingers perfect for playing ivory keys or deftly stitching wounds. The more Dean looked, the more he saw that his initial assumption, while true, wasn't the whole story.

Cas didn't just have piano-playing hands or caregiver's hands; he had the hands of an artist, a writer. Dean saw this in the way he gripped a pen, the way Cas' hands would softly trace symbols and words into Dean’s back in the pale hours of dawn.

Dean saw Cas' hands for what they were especially when he held his hand, or brushed his fingers against Dean in a certain way. Dean could feel callouses on Cas' fingers, thick and hard, covering the inner parts of his thumb and middle finger. Cas had the familiar writer's bump on his fingers.

Sam had one, too. Most likely from all the notes he took at Stanford, or all the notes he made himself keep in high school. Sammy hadn't properly touched a pen to write in ages, and he still had that bump. Sam didn't write notes anymore, just scribbled about leads on cases on loose post-it-notes or napkins. Sam never wrote, and he still had writer's hands.

Cas, though, Cas wrote all the time. He sat at the desk in his and Dean's room, writing prose in the moonlight the bunker's windows let in when he couldn't sleep. He wrote poetry on the backs of scratch pieces of paper and left it strewn all over the bunker, sketched random things and left the ones he liked on Dean's pillow for him to find. Cas even kept a journal, and Dean would look over his shoulder when Cas was scribbling away and he'd see his own name written multiple times. Cas never told him what they said, though, he always wrote in a different language every day. Cas never stopped writing, and he quickly developed callouses and a writer's bump so hard Dean immediately knew he'd always have it.

Dean didn't have writer’s hands. He never kept notes in high school, never went to college. Dean had never written enough in his life to collect those callouses. No, Dean's callouses told a different story. They were from constantly loading, unloading, and cleaning guns, countless hours spent digging up graves or callouses on his knuckles from splitting them so many times in fist fights. Callouses from how long his hands spent on a steering wheel. Sam had those kinds of callouses, too, but they never were as thick and hard as Dean's. Dean could never tell whether he should feel proud of that, or just depressed because of the history behind them.

Cas built up his own collection of callouses over time; each with its own story. Some were from digging with a garden trowel when gardening became a passion for him. Some were built up from scars, like the one time he got way too close to a beehive and was stung all over the place (crazy fucker never dropped his penchant for bees), and some were from the time he spent crafting fake armor and costumes, wielding a sword at LARPing conventions with Charlie.

He had some of the same callouses Dean did. Like the ones from handling guns, or when Dean finally trusted him enough to drive the Impala. He even picked up a couple from the very few times Dean tried to teach Cas guitar before he got frustrated, declared it to be a stupid instrument, and refused to let Dean teach him anymore. (Dean had made fun of him, saying angels were supposed to be musical with all the harps and shit. Cas punched his shoulder in return and gave Dean a bruise for days).

Cas eventually got lots of callouses, just like the Winchester brothers, but none would ever tell as many stories, Dean thinks, as his writer's callouses. Cas had deft writer's hands, and Dean liked running his fingers over the bump on Cas' middle finger. Those callouses were the most important. They were so intrinsically Cas, and Dean loved them.


End file.
